


long hurt in long division

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Why do you have to be such a stupid boy?” she responds. “Not everything I do is about you, Chop.”</i> Izzy leaves Stamford to start over. Turns out, she's the strong one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long hurt in long division

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [fangirlwithoutshame](http://fangirlwithoutshame.tumblr.com/) who prompted: "Please come get me." and Chop & Izzy. Title taken from the poem [Temple On My Knees](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poem/245228) by Lisa Russ Spaar.

She doesn’t go to uni. There’s a lot of dithering and some serious thinking about what she wants, but in the end she thinks Finn had the right of it. Better to just get a start on your life while you’re living it. She’s got a cousin doing pretty well with a clothing shop who could use a hand and what better way to test her wings?

“Not sure that’s the best idea, Iz,” Finn tells her when she announces to the gang that she’s gotten a job in Liverpool. “Long way from home, that.”

She sets her jaw and twists her mouth, not willing to fight with anyone else before she leaves. Done enough fighting with Chop to last her a lifetime. He’s not even at the pub now sending her off and she’s almost glad of it.

They’re done for now. His choice, though, Izzy reminds herself. He told her that he wasn’t about to have his girl gone so far away for some job she could do anywhere. Told her.

“I’m not your property, Chop,” she says, soft voice echoing in the silent room.  “College is done and -”

“And what, Izzy?” His voice is loud, is always loud, but his arms are flat at his sides. “You’re done with me?”

“Why do you have to be such a stupid boy?” she responds. “Not everything I do is about you, Chop.”

That’s when he told her that if that’s how she felt, they’d be done. She could go do what she fancied and he’d do the same, thank you very much. It didn’t have to be like that, she thinks, but she’s not sure it could have been any different. He’s always big and loud and too much, no matter the situation. Only way he knows how to be, she supposes, and she likes that about him - he feels everything to its top. She wishes he didn’t right now, though.

Liverpool isn’t the dream she thought it would be. It’s not a bad city and her cousin’s right nice. The shop is snug, full of lovely clothes and lovely people; there’s heaps to do around Liverpool after work. Just that there’s nobody at the end of a long day to swing her off her feet and tell her she’s the loveliest girl he’s ever seen, or to bring her a mug when she’s feeling ill. At night she thinks about being next to Chop in bed, sweat cooling on her skin and his arm draped heavy across her belly. She misses Stamford, her friends and family, and that stupid boy.

She misses him. But missing him’s not a good reason to go back. Not everything she does is about him, Izzy reminds herself.

The phone rings late one night after she’s had a few too many drinks. Normally she’s not much for drinking but it’s good to be social at the pub. The shrill clamor of the phone prods her out of a warm bed, stumbling across shoes and books so she can make it stop.

“H’lo?” she mumbles, fighting against the haze of sleep and drink clouding her brain.

“Izzy?” It’s softest she’s ever heard her name from his lips and it makes her think it can’t be him on the other end of the phone because in all the time she’s known him, every word he’s ever said to her has been at top volume. “Izzy girl?”

“Chop.” Her lips feel a bit clumsy saying his name. She hasn’t said it, even to herself, in the past few months. No point, really. But now he’s just down the phone line and she wants to keep saying his name. “Chop.”

“Izzy, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have said all those things.”

That’s true enough. He shouldn’t have said them. Still she thinks there’s no point in rehashing what’s done and over. Like them, her heart prods softly, and she bites her lip against the sudden blossoming ache in her chest.

“I know y’are,” she tells him when the throb in her heart subsides. “I know, Chop.”

The line is silent for so long she thinks he’s gone - passed out, maybe as she can still hear him breathing on the line. Probably she should hang up the phone and just let him sleep it off. Staying on the line, she just listens to the soft sound of his breath.

“Izzy?” he says finally, and the word is the saddest she’s ever heard.

“Yeah, Chop?” she answers and the ache in her chest is in her eyes now, tears rolling softly down her cheeks.

“I miss you.” There’s a noise on the line that sounds like crying. “Please come get me, yeah? I’ll come to Liverpool and we’ll do whatever you want, girl. I just - I miss you.”

There isn’t any way for her to stop the flow of tears. As fast as she scrubs them away with the back of her hand, more are trickling down her face. Biting her lip to hold back the sob she can feel at the back of her throat, she tries to answer him.

“Chop, love,” she says, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Call me tomorrow, okay? I miss you but call me tomorrow.”

“Izzy -”

“No.” she cuts him off because if he tells her he loves her she won’t care that he’s drunk and she’s drunk and that there’s a point to be made here. She’ll just care that he loves her. “You’re drunk. Whatever you think now, you’re drunk. You didn’t call all these nights before and -”

“I wanted to,” he interrupts her, voice rising. “I did, Izzy. Thought maybe you might not want to hear from me, though.”

“I did, though. You’re the one who walked away, Chop,” she reminds him. “All I did was take a job in Liverpool.”

Waiting, she thinks, is hard. Harder still because she wants him back. Wants to go get him and bring him to Liverpool so they can have a life together. But she’s not fool enough to rely on the promises of a drunk man.

“Felt like you walked away first,” he says finally.

“Well I didn’t.” She sighs. “Now go to bed and call me tomorrow when y’aren’t drunk. And if you want to be with me, properly want to be with me, I’ll come and get you.”


End file.
